HippieChic's blog: "Alone?"

its that time again. this time i think its induced. im trying to shake the habit, im trying to make things change. i think that has a lot to do with what is happening this morning. dead fucking hollow like adam says. thats what today feels like. its been so long that i dont know the rest. i wonder if its worth it? everything was good before i tried to shake the habit and now things are shakey at best. as i layed last night i had all those shitty thoughts pop back in like an unwanted visitor once again. they come back from time to time prying themselves into my day unwelcome but reminding me of how awful and miserable they can make me feel. they bring a long a big giant cooler full of ice cold pain and dispair to pummel my already dismal day. those visons make me hurt. they make me feel desparate and alone. they remind me and i dont like to be reminded of all that shit. how come they always seem so vivid and clear like im watching it all on dvd in high definition display? i fight it and hope that sleep will enter the room and sweep it away like a giant broom or eraser on the end of some mental cleasning pencil. i thought that this would be easy. i thought that the payoff would be huge. so far its not looking like the preview did. but then again they always show you the best snippets even if the show as a whole is worthless to get you to think that you cant do without it. than you walk out feeling ripped off and violated. they wasted a piece of your existence and you will never get it back. i told myself i was fogging out the time and that it would all be better. i need to believe what i told me. i need to make it work. but i know nothing else. so its like walking into a room full of strangers and just how that makes you feel. association is deadly. justifacation makes you feel worthy. i need a goal. i need an achievement that i can hang on. i need to be strong. i sit here in my cage and hide from the rest of you to keep inside all that i dont want you to know. it was supposed to be better like a life line or super charger. it was supposed to make sense and fall into place like nothing at all. all the scenesters kinow nothing, but you fall into that trap of thinking they do and begin to doubt yourself. the world still turns and the sun still shines, so why is it different than the rest of my days. i need a change and prehaps i need a scare to shake the dust and deadly old habits off my days like blowing the layers off the shelves in the attic. sleep is overrated but essential to life. i get it and i live in a better place than what i have when i dont, but shaking off its effects always seem to be tougher when you have nothing to look forward to. i wish i could give everyone everything they ever wanted. i wish i could pay the bills. i wish i could by us all happiness. i would love to change my world. but that would bring another page of problems and concerns i never knew before i had that forementioned warehouse full of everything in the the world. i struggle to find strength to build it in myself. i talk a lot of good words when aiming them away, so why cant i use those words to strengthen up my day? i know its not as bad as the snowball i always seem to create, but i have a habit of building up the bad blocks into a big ol wall inside my mind that blocks the progress of sunshine and happiness. how come that same crew cant knock it down and recycle the bricks into a window filled super wall that lets the sun shine in and makes things glow in a positive light that brightens up myself and everyone around me. im good at hiding but bad at lying. so dont ask me to die.

When in the company of others, I constantly think how the very event would feel the same if I was completely alone. I find comfort in this.

confusion about questions that never get answers, or people that never have the urge to spill it all onto the canvas. lets hide the truth over here behind all these lies, over priced condominiums and artificial smiles. lets hide the truth under our skin, no one will ever see it there. our sun darkened pelts are the perfect camoflage. they all say, "next to the meat of my body you will never see the real thing unless they dig and sift and prod though my flesh like a senior citizen metal detector crack addict combing the waterfront for long lost wedding rings and the ancient bottle caps of his fading youth". They all say it, they really do. ive heard those words uttered more than once, in more than one language, so dont think its not true. even though its buried very deep, the truth always floats to the surface. slowly making its way through the layers of yesterdays bland meals, sweaty high school workouts, warbling vhs exercise videos and blown weightloss programs. but i have the miraculous x ray human high velocity microscope to see through and sort it all out. yes sir, i'll sort it all into neatly stacked piles based on relevence and worth, all the while creating a vastly detailed inventory complete with tracking numbers and color coded paper labels that look like the stickers chiquita puts on bananas. only mine are different colors and look much cooler than theirs do. and i mean way, way cooler.

today i find myself feeling alone in the world. no one is here with me to share the oxygen with my lungs and no one is here with me to watch me breathe. like under a vast sheet of glass that separates me from the others above. looking down at me like a reptile on display in some roadside attraction. they dont hear my words and they cant see my face, only that which they want to pay for will make me worthy of the attention i crave. all i want is to hear the words i never get to hear. all i want is to feel them as they fill my concious path with the feeling i long to feel. it doesnt take much, but today i am alone in this other universe and im not sure that i want to stay. the gray overhead tapistry tells us how to feel so no instructions are needed. why just once cant you stop to read the stupid label and give me what i really want? why is the wall so high that even with the tallest supermax extendo ladder i can barely see over its reaches? i want to climb high and swing from your branches, i want to swim in all that is you. but the sign says your closed and i dont like the words that i find on the sign anyway. just like always, i drive all the way up there, spending valuable time and energy only to be turned away when the doors are locked and kept. its always sunny in there, but i cant seem to squeeze through the slot in the door. if only i was paper. then i could slide in and lay on your cold hard floor waiting for you to come and trample me with your wonderful footsteps and tread. pick me up and throw me away at your house. put me out with the recycle and old stacks of newspapers. turn me into business cards that say how much you hate the world and distribute them to everyone you love. i can take it, i used to be a paperboy.